


Hurt/Comfort

by Eridanie



Category: Heroes (TV)
Genre: Angst, Comfort/Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 17:46:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4970455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eridanie/pseuds/Eridanie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter could hear the keys jangling in the door, and he could hear from the heartbeat that it was Mohinder, and he was upset. He put his book down, and sat up looking at the door anxiously as he waited for Mohinder to come through. The look on his face was enough for Peter to know what was wrong. He didn't need to see the bruises scrapes, and split lip marring Mohinder's face. He didn't need to see the rumpled clothing, the tear on the side of his shirt, or the disheveled hair. He didn't need to feel the surge of shame coming off him, or smell the scent of sex emanating from his skin. Unfortunately he knew from experience alone what that face meant, and he silently stood up, taking Mohinder's hand and leading him to the bedroom, pushing him down on white cotton sheets. He pulled off his messenger bag and his shoes, dropping them to the floor, before sliding his body along the slick surface to press against Mohinder's body.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hurt/Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> I thought I would transfer over some of my old Heroes fanfic from Livejournal in 2008 over to my AO3 account in celebration of Heroes being a thing again. Plus I know people don't really use LJ anymore so I thought it would be nice if my fanfic was centralized in one place.
> 
> Upon re-reading this much later I think this may be my favorite heroes slash I've written despite being so short :)  
> This is primarily a Peter/Mohinder fic with implied Mohinder/Sylar You know fandom bicycle and all that:D  
> Wordcount: 916  
> Commentary: I originally started writing this for the Petrelli challenge, but it got all pointless and rambly, and then I couldn't work another Petrelli in without making it contrived, so I'm just posting it regular, non challenge style now.

Peter could hear the keys jangling in the door, and he could hear from the heartbeat that it was Mohinder, and he was upset. He put his book down, and sat up looking at the door anxiously as he waited for Mohinder to come through. The look on his face was enough for Peter to know what was wrong. He didn't need to see the bruises, scrapes, and split lip marring Mohinder's face. He didn't need to see the rumpled clothing, the tear on the side of his shirt, or the disheveled hair. He didn't need to feel the surge of shame coming off him, or smell the scent of sex emanating from his skin. Unfortunately he knew from experience alone what that face meant, and he silently stood up, taking Mohinder's hand and leading him to the bedroom, pushing him down on white cotton sheets. He pulled off his messenger bag and his shoes, dropping them to the floor, before sliding his body along the slick surface to press against Mohinder's body.

Mohinder's body was shaking with shock. He didn't speak. He never did at first. Peter pressed his fingers to his face, searching out every part that was damaged. His fingers skimmed over a red patch on his cheek, his mind picking up flashes of memory from Mohinder, of a stubbled jaw scratching its way up his face. Peter pressed one finger against the drop of blood still clinging to the split in his lip, as he saw visions of sharp teeth biting painfully into his lips, and tasting his own blood on his tongue. Peter straddled Mohinder's hips, hands resting to either side of Mohinder's dark curls to support himself as he pressed a tender kiss to the hickey framed by teeth marks on his soft neck. He could feel the sucking pressure and the painful sting of teeth. His lips circled over to the dark arching bruise across his throat, feeling the fingers closing around his windpipe as he struggled to suck in enough air. Peter's fingers moved swiftly to the top button of Mohinder's shirt, deftly flicking it open and working his way down all the buttons until he could peel it away, revealing Mohinder's tan sweat slicked torso, the expanse of angry red scratches stretched across his chest were the only sign of trespass here. But as he pushed down the sleeves, pulling off the shirt all the way, he could see his red swollen wrists. While stroking a finger lightly along the welts he pressed a kiss to the inside of each wrist, with flashes of arms being squeezed and wrenched forcefully above his head. He drew his face down parallel with Mohinder's stomach, breathing lightly into his belly button as he paused to skim his lips reverently across the striped bruises, as he felt strong hands close over his waist, thumbs digging into his muscles painfully. His hips had bruises like fingerprints and he felt the ghost of sensation as he was held down and thrust into punishingly, and without prep, ripping against his tensing muscles.

It was as if Sylar was intent on marking every part of Mohinder's body as his own, with scratches and bruises. By the look on his face he was leaving scars in his mind as well. No corner was left unclaimed. He supposed that was the same thing he was doing now. With gentle touches, and soft kisses. It was his private ritual, every time Mohinder came back with that look. Smelling of him. Bearing his marks. He would lay him here, his lips cataloging the crimes painted across his body, with every touch Mohinder's thoughts turning to how each mark was made. The images replaying vividly in Peter's mind as he read each memory, and each thought. He felt like a voyeur witnessing such intimate, and cruel moments, that were not his to recall. He didn't know if Mohinder knew he was reading his memories. It didn't look like he could summon the energy to care at the moment. His fingers curled around the pillow tightly, as his eyes pooled with tears that he was clearly struggling not to shed. Peter slid back up to face him, tangling his fingers into curls as he cradled the back of his head.

"This isn't right. Why do you keep letting him do this?" It was what a person was supposed to say in a situation like this. He pretended he didn't know the reasons it would continue, pretended he didn't know why it was happening.

He could hear Mohinder whisper quizzically to himself. "Let him? You Don't understand. I'll do whatever I have to to keep my family safe!"

Peter only nodded sympathetically. That wasn't the only reason, he knew, but he only cared because it was the source of Mohinder's shame. He was getting something from those encounters that he couldn't get from Peter. Peter wasn't angry though. Comforting was his strong point. Where he was in his element, and it was the only time, that he felt like Mohinder needed him. As long as Mohinder kept coming back to him, he would be happy, his adoration contained no contingencies. He knew Mohinder secretly needed a level of cruelty and possession that he couldn't attempt. He didn't know why Mohinder felt like he should be punished, but he knew he couldn't be the one to give him that. Just like the other couldn't be the one to comfort him.


End file.
